


I Could Be Your Morning Sunrise

by KaliTracer



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Humor, Insomnia, M/M, Major Character Injury, Platonic Cuddling, Sleepy Cuddles, That's it, The Company holds daily interventions for them, Thorin does a dumb, War descriptions, that's the fic, then later not so platonic cuddling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-07 23:22:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3187076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaliTracer/pseuds/KaliTracer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo had been sleeping in Thorin's bed since before the Battle of Five Armies, but it was just sleeping. They were more comfortable within arms reach of the other. It wasn't anything more than that.</p><p>Now if only they could convince the rest of the company of that. Also, all of Erebor would be good too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I DIDN'T MEAN TO BUT THERE WERE FEELS.

Thorin spit out his drink in a great spray of ale. Oh Mahal it burned shooting out his nose too until he was dripping in what had been a pleasant mouthful of ale. He choked on the rush of air his body tried to vacant the invading ale until he had coughed up the rest of the burning liquid. However that wasn't even the issue, the main thought in Thorin's brain was...

" _What_ did you just say?" he demanded glaring down his nephew as menacingly as he could with ale dripping down his beard.

"Marriage? To Bilbo? That was the discussion of the council?" Fili said. He had the decency to look confused if mildly concerned. Though that may have something to do with the ale now covering the majority of the meal. Kili was torn between horrified and giggling.

"Why would I get married to Bilbo?" Thorin asked, wiping at his beard and face.

There was a general stillness around the table as the question seemed to echo around the room. Balin and Gloin exchanged a look down the table.

"He sleeps in your bed Thorin," Balin says. "It had been assumed that marriage would be in your future plans."

"Yes, what does sleeping in my bed have to do with anything?" Thorin asked, partially flabbergasted.

Another awkward silence. Thorin felt everyone exchange looks. It was getting little exhaustive. He was the King, this shouldn't feel like he was being sat down for an intervention.

Before anyone could come up with something to say, the doors were pushed open and a small Hobbit came shuffling in.

"Sorry I'm late, the scrolls shelf broke on Ori and I. He's still cleaning...up..." Bilbo took a look around as all eyes turned to him. Kili had picked giggling and tried desperately to muffle it at least.

“Did I interrupt something?” Bilbo asks, looking around the room.

“No, laddie. It’s all fine. We were just waiting for you two before we started eating,” Balin covered easily. Thorin shot him a look and nodded. Ori came tumbling in after Bilbo moved away from the door. He was sporting a large bruise to one temple but seemed otherwise unharmed.

Nori and Dori pulled Ori aside to fuss over the bruise. Bilbo moved around the distraction to go sit on the first seat on the left, his usually seat at Thorin’s left hand.

“The shelf only glanced him,” Bilbo said to Thorin as he sat. “I already looked him over. He is fine. I would have take him straight to the healers if he wasn’t.”

Thorin nodded, already knowing it. Bilbo could be worst than a nagging hen over something especially health related. However, what he really wanted was to go back to the insane conversation they had just ended and demand answers that made some kind of sense.

“Is everything all right?” Bilbo asked, in a hush tone as Dwalin finally got Dori and Nori out of the way so he could inspect the bruise. It was a bit silly but Ori flushed when he did so plus he protested less.

Unable to really answer, Thorin nodded to his friend. There wasn’t a proper way to say ‘everyone assume we should get married just because you share my bed’. At least one that wouldn’t make Bilbo feel anymore awkward than normal.

The others finally rejoin their King at the table and he gestures for them to eat. Most of them dig in and the chatter starts up. Thorin fixes to take his first bite when Bilbo cuts in.

“Why is there ale covering your beard?”

Kili’s giggles ring out louder than he can muffle and his other traitorous heir joins in. Thorin scowls at them but it does nothing to stop them. He wonders sometimes if anyone remembers he is the King.

-

If Bilbo thought about it, he supposed the whole situation might have been odd to anyone who wasn’t Thorin and himself. It had probably started somewhere on the journey. While it certainly hadn’t hurt that they were all in close quarters and everyone was practically sleeping on top of one another, Bilbo had found he slept best when he was within arms reach of Thorin.

Then the journey had come to an abrupt end at Erebor where they suddenly would have rooms to themselves. Only that didn’t work out quite to anyone’s favor. Smaug, it seemed, had destroyed most of the pathways to living quarters and it would be months before the main one would be rebuilt. The group of thirteen barely had four rooms to split amongst them. Sure, plenty of gold but less than half would have a bed.

Kili and Fili were supposed to bunk with Thorin, being family and all, while Bilbo was graced with space on the floor next to Dwalin. Balin and Gloin shared the bed in the quarters. This would have been a fine arrangement except all three of the dwarves snored as if would ward off potential attackers. And it worked too.

Of course, Bilbo had been listening to their snores for most of the journey but there had usually been other softer snores that he had been able to focus on to fall asleep. Their familiar rumbles, for whatever reason, seemed harsher and louder in the shared quarters and Bilbo couldn’t tune them out no matter what he did.

Morning was still long off as Bilbo climbed out of his bedroll. He hoped that perhaps a short walk would ease his mind enough to be able to sleep upon his return.

At first he was sure that he had only made two turns (both rights) until he had tried to turn back and found himself making a right to avoid a dead-end. It wasn’t possible to get lost that fast, he was sure. Bilbo turned around again to head back to his last left, muttering how confusion must be dwarves natural state.

Some time later, when he candle started running low, Bilbo was certain that he would never find the dwarves again. He had nearly resigned himself to curling up in a corner and hoping that someone would find him come morning. The only other hope he may have had would be to start creating some kind of ruckus and pray that he wasn’t too far away to be heard. Of course he didn’t want to necessarily wake his companions, but it was quite chilly away from all the fires going in the rooms.

Just as Bilbo was ready to call the whole things quits, his toes were nearly frozen, and find somewhere isolated to sleep a voice called from behind him.

“Master Baggins? What are you doing from your room?”

Thankfully it was not a sleep-deprived hallucination, but instead really Thorin standing, in his bed shirt, at the opposite end of the hall.

“Thorin? Thank Yavanna. I got lost when I was taking a walk,” Bilbo breathed out a heavy sigh.

“Why were you out for a walk at this time of night?” Thorin asked, his hair was messed up like he had been tossing and turning too.

“I had some slight difficulty falling asleep this evening past. I thought a brisk walk would help calm my mind,” Bilbo admitted. He couldn’t rightly say that he had been too far from Thorin to be able to feel safe enough to drift off.

“Come, I may have a solution,” Thorin said, turning with a gesture for Bilbo to follow. He led Bilbo through four lefts and one right before ending up at the door Bilbo had been pretty sure he had seen assigned to the Durin line.

As Thorin pushed open the door, he turned and put a finger to his mouth. Bilbo nodded and followed the King into the room, where it was instantly aware why he wanted the Hobbit to be silent.

Curled up on the bed were Fili and Kili, both snoring gently, Fili a little quieter than his brother.

A hand caught Bilbo’s and he looked up at Thorin who pulled him along to the far side of the room where there was a large, dark colored, two-seat cushioned sofa. There is a fur throw hanging off the end, and it seemed this was where Thorin had been resting.

Thorin blew out what remained of the candle, leaving the room lit by the dwindling fire. He set the candle on the mantle and gestured to the sofa. Bilbo wanted to protest taking Thorin’s bed from him, but from the way Thorin crowded in close to Bilbo he realized quickly that Thorin wasn’t giving up his bed, but instead offering to share. It didn’t take much longer than an instant before Bilbo found himself pressed in close to the _King of Erebor_ under a heavy fur throw that forced them even closer to keep them both partially covered, even though there was a bit of a breeze along Bilbo’s back.

Bilbo tried to protest, but Thorin hushed him before the words were even uttered. This arrangement didn’t seem that much better and really it wasn’t that much better with Fili and Kili snoring just a few yards away plus it would have been so much easier to sleep in his own bedr-A firm hand moved to grip Bilbo’s waist, pulling him closer until Bilbo’s head moved from the cushioned sofa to Thorin’s chest.

Finally the throw seemed to enclose them and the heat Thorin gave off started to seep into Bilbo’s space. The dwarf felt like a furnace pressed so close to Bilbo. It was unfairly pleasant in a way Bilbo hadn’t been expecting. His right arm was trapped curled around his middle, but his left hand rested outstretched over Thorin’s stomach.

The warmth distracted Bilbo for a moment, before he remembered he was going to protest, there were things to question Thorin about, lots of things. Bilbo let out a low moan as a hand curled around his shoulder, keeping him pulled in close to so much delicious heat.

He hadn’t realized his eyes had been half-shut since they had climbed onto the sofa until he thought to ask why Thorin had been out roaming the halls in the night too. The question was right on the tip of his tongue but his eyelids grew too heavy and Bilbo found his mind set adrift before he could pose his query.

Last on his mind was the thought that perhaps whatever his questions were they could wait until morning. He missed altogether Thorin’s throaty rumble wishing him pleasant dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> expect some skips from 'present' to the past'. Btw, 'present' is post BoFA.

~Past~

That first night spent curled around each other had been meant to be a one-off. Bilbo had convinced himself in the morning that it hadn’t been the best sleep of his life, that really he had just been very tired and any sleep would have been amazing. The snoring had been keeping him awake, he’ll just go to sleep before the other dwarves and therefore wouldn’t hear it.

He was convinced right up until he tried falling asleep again that night. The others had been dawdling around dinner and Bilbo had crept off to try and be asleep before the mountain-moving snores descended.

For a few moment, Bilbo turned until he found himself comfortable enough. The bedroll was certainly warm enough, with the fire still at full blaze. He felt relief that the warmth was settling over him because, as he deduced, that had been what had made him fall asleep so fast when he had been with Thorin.

As he relaxed, Bilbo congratulated himself on figuring it all out. He didn’t feel any hesitation to shut his eyes and wait for sleep to claim him.

Hours later, Bilbo opened his eyes and finally declared surrender. Sleep was no closer to claiming him than Thandruil to apologizing personally to Thorin. Dwalin, Gloin, and Balin had already fallen asleep and were snoring on, peacefully. Bilbo couldn’t even pretend he knew what was keeping him awake.

By the time the fire had truly died down, signally it was, once again, much later than Bilbo needed to be awake, Bilbo had sat up and was staring at it’s low flames as if, in hopes, it might mesmerize him enough to fall asleep.

Giving up, Bilbo clamored to his feet and let them carry him out into the hall. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking about doing. There would be no way to reach Thorin at this hour. The King would be most certainly sleeping, and not at all-

Bilbo found himself running face-first into someone. Warm hands caught him and helped keep him up right. He looked up at the smiling face of the King.

“Again, Master Baggins?” Thorin’s chest vibrated with the throaty laugh he let out. Bilbo smiled, and shook his head.

“Not lost this time,” Bilbo said, at least he didn’t think so. At night it was incredibly difficult to know when all he could see was Thorin. Maybe he had found what his feet had set him out in search for.

“But still awake after the peak of the moon,” Thorin says.

“I find myself unable to sleep in my current quarters,” Bilbo says and then flushes. He hadn’t meant it quite the way it sounded. “Not that my quarters aren't pleasant. It’s more that I cannot find sleep.”

“Relax. I understand. Perhaps you forget that Dwalin and I have shared sleeping space before. His snores have ended whole battles before they could even begin,” Thorin laughs and Bilbo can’t help but laugh as well.

“If you wish, I still have space in my room that we can share another night,” Thorin offers it so easily. Bilbo accepts with a quick nod.

When they are settling in under the fur throw, Fili and Kili snoring away again, Bilbo wonders if now is the time to tell Thorin about the Arkenstone in his pack. They had been sent in a furious search for it, and Bilbo didn’t know why he had kept it hidden.

The thoughts plagued his mind until Thorin’s hand fell to his hip and tug him close again. This time Bilbo didn’t even hesitate to curl his arm around the King’s middle, propriety damned.

It didn’t take the entire length of a minute before Bilbo happily drifted unconscious. He missed Thorin’s blissful sigh of relief as he too found enough peace to put his mind at ease and pass finally into sleep.

~ Present ~

The next morning, Thorin found himself waking in the manner that he was quite accustomed, with Bilbo Baggins curled around his side, arm around his waist and head full of curls atop his chest.

Conversation from the dinner the night previous was almost forefront in his mind when his eyes opened. Balin and Fili had talked of his marriage to Bilbo with almost certainty that it truly bothered him they were so misguided. They had assumed that he and Bilbo were intimate, perhaps? That was Thorin’s only assumption to explain why they would think the next logic step was _marriage_.

He wondered if they were always this delusional or if maybe there was some latent affect the Arkenstone had passed onto the others. Thranduil had said the stone would be kept somewhere safe and far away from Erebor. Still, it may not hurt to send a letter to see if the damn thing was far _enough_ away.

Grumblings from Bilbo pulled Thorin out of his thoughts. The Hobbit groaned loudly before burying his face in Thorin’s chest.

“I can ‘ear you thinking,” Bilbo mumbled. Smiling, Thorin ran a hand affectionately down his friend’s back.

“I doubt that my thoughts pulled you from your slumber, dear Hobbit,” Thorin said, chuckling when Bilbo groaned again.

“You’re smirking, I can hear it. It’s too early for smug,” Bilbo protested.

“Would you prefer I vacate the bed and allow you more time to rest?” Thorin asks.

It comes as no surprise when Bilbo clenches his hand in Thorin’s bed shirt and squeezes him tight and possessive. A warmth flares in Thorin’s stomach that he tries to ignore as Bilbo grumbles loudly about there being no decent pillows in Erebor and how would he get any sleep if Thorin, the only good pillow available, _left._

Chuckling, Thorin rubbed Bilbo’s back in apology as the Hobbit settled again. His hand finds his friend’s neck and he rubs his thumb on the soft skin there.

Shifting his head on the pillow, Thorin closes his eyes. Marriage. He mentally snorts. His friends are insane.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who ordered the angst?

~Past

For the next few days, Bilbo stopped trying to sleep in the rooms with Balin, Dwalin, and Gloin. Instead he simply waited until they were asleep to get up and crawl in next to Thorin. By morning, Bilbo would wake and head straight to the kitchen area to start breakfast.

It wasn't that he was necessarily trying to hide but he wasn't ready for Kili and Fili to start their teasing. It wouldn't have mattered at all except the hunt for the Arkenstone started to affect Thorin. Everyday Bilbo took out the stone and wondered if that day was the day he would tell Thorin. Each day passed and when Bilbo curled around the King, he naively let himself think that it didn't matter if the Arkenstone sat at the bottom of his bag for the rest of time.

This delusion held until Thorin told Bilbo that someone in the party had betrayed him. He felt ill as he looked at the stone. He did not have the slightest clue what he was going to do.

Of course then Elves and the men arrived and Thorin declared war. Bilbo knew he would rather never sleep again than let a war take place when he knew a way to bring peace, and maybe even release the hold over Thorin.

As twilight settled heavily in the sky and Thorin drifted off, Bilbo lay awake. He kept trying to steel himself for what must happen, even though a large part of him wanted nothing more than to squeeze his eyes shut and believe that it would all be better in the morning even if he did nothing.

That, however, he knew was a lie. Swallowing back the pain, Bilbo sat up and slid out from Thorin's embrace.

As quiet as his given title, Burglar, he snuck from Erebor. Arkenstone in hand. He could only hope that there was one King that could sensibly end this madness.

-Present-

There was something odd going on in Erebor. No less than three times, Bilbo had walked into a room and silence had descended. Plenty of the dwarves present were ones that he had conversed with on several prior occasions. Now they were staring at him with thinly veiled pity and disbelief. The hobbit didn't know what he had done that was 'pity' worthy but it was the emotion that seemed to come from all directions.

Fili and Kili had come to Bilbo in the library and asked if he needed anything. Dismissing the strange behavior, he had tried to get back to work, only to have Balin and Dori show up to ask the same. Bilbo wondered if he should start testing to see if the ale had gone wrong.

Even stranger than all that were the looks that the company had started giving Thorin. Suddenly it seemed everyone would shoot glares of discontent at their King. It ruffled Bilbo's nerves, so he tried to spend some extra time with Thorin between his meetings, but if anything it got worse.

Dis, at one point, pulled Thorin aside for a quiet but harsh discussion. There was a lot hand gestures but Bilbo couldn't catch a single word.

Afterwards, Thorin seemed to pull away from him, not returning any of Bilbo's quips with half-smirks or full laughter. Whatever was happening he knew that something was wrong and he wasn't going to be shrugged off any longer.

There was only one person he knew that would have the answers he needed.

Opening the armory door, Kili glanced up and nearly walked into Bilbo. As he started to smile, the dwarf caught the frown on his friend's face and the narrowing of his eyes.

"Kili, son of the Durin line. You have some questions to answer to," Bilbo grabbed the young dwarf's ear and pulled him back into the armory.

"AH! Bilbo!!" Kili exclaimed, hands coming up in surrender as Bilbo pushed him back onto a stool. He hit with a thud and sighed when his ear was released.

"Master Baggins, please! I've done nothing wrong," he protested. Off Bilbo's fierce look he added, "Well nothing today at least."

"Something's going on in this mountain and I refuse to be left out and mocked for it," Bilbo says, taking a step back and squaring off to the dwarf.

"No one is mocking you Mister Bilbo. That isn't what's going on," Kili confessed, eyes going wide.

"But there is something going on," Bilbo said, smirking. Kili swallowed.

"Perhaps Uncle Thorin would be the better person to talk to," Kili deflected. Bilbo crossed his arms.

"I want answers, Kili. I am sure have them," Bilbo frowned. "Now, what is so important that your mother would pull Thorin out of hearing-range for an argument. Everyone is glaring at your Uncle like he has done something wrong!"

Kili winced, and took a breath. "The Council are questioning Uncle's reluctance to marry you."

For a moment Bilbo stared, head tilting to the side as he tried to understand those words. He shook his head.

"I want the truth, Kili. I will not have you playing mind games with me. That's utter nonsense and we both know it."

"What? No! It is the truth! I swear!" The young dwarf sat up straighter on his stool and frowned. "I wouldn't lie about this, I promise."

Taking another second, Bilbo tried to reason it out in his head but none of it made sense. He definitely should have tested the ale. Sighing, he scratched his head.

"I will have to see if maybe your brother knows since you do not want to cooperat-"

"Uncle is being question of his intentions since you two have been sleeping together! They are urging him to marry before it becomes common knowledge in all of the mountain," Kili says.

"What does that have to do with marriage?" Bilbo tried to think if there had been any mention of betrothal in any of the dwarven texts he'd discovered in the library.

"Mister Bilbo! You deserve marriage! I don't know why Uncle won't propose but this is not looked favorably on by the Council for him to have a Consort without at least marriage!" Kili's forehead crinkled in frustration.

"Consort? Kili, we are just sleeping with each other. Why would I be considered a consort?"

The younger dward groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Dwarves do not just take people to bed. There has to be marriage first. It just isn't done."

Bilbo rubbed his face.

"This is not making any sense. Thorin and I are simply-"

"No!" Kili shouts, interrupting him. "I do not want to know. That's private." He sticks his fingers in his ears as Bilbo tries to talk over him. He grumbles and stands up.

"Has everyone lost their good sense?" he shout to the room at large before leaving.

-Past-

When he returned to his King's arms, Bilbo found that no sleep would be forthcoming. He spent the rest of the night holding back tears of anger. He slipped asleep only once and his nightmares of the end of the Durin line made him awake clutching Thorin's sleep shirt. Bilbo barely managed to get himself together before Thorin woke.

Immediately, Thorin launched into the search the Arkenstone and left. Bilbo followed with a heavy heart.


	4. Chapter 4

-Present-

As the dinner hour had long since passed, Thorin finally pushed away the scrolls that he had been reading. With everything that had been going on, he had not felt like going to dinner with his kin that evening. Too much was happening in the mountain and far too much was going on in his mind.

All day he had been swarmed with looks of disapproval and near-silent mutterings of his advisors and the Council about Bilbo. _Dis_ even pulled him aside to scold him about how he was treating the hobbit. She went on and on about his _audacity_ to treat a Consort like that and _who did he think he was_.

Thorin did admit he did not handle the accusations well. He had snapped at nearly half a dozen friends and damn-well chewed his sister out. She had not said a word to him the rest of the day.

What _was_ he thinking? Clearly something had become miscommunicated between himself, Bilbo and the others. At first he had thought that they had made the incorrect assumptions but now it seemed there was definitely something that he was missing.

Rubbing his face, he leaned back in his chair and looked around his study. The room used to hold such discomfort for him, his father had had him spend hours inside doing work and learning the ropes. Now he hid in the room like it would protect him from whatever outside its doors that wanted to tear at him.

Mostly he figured it was just Dis, waiting to pounce and take her revenge.

At the very least he owed her an apology, Thorin stood and left his study, making paces for his bed where he would be able to forget the headaches of the day. For Mahal’s sake, he did not know why they were so insistent that marriage with Bilbo was the next logical step. They were nothing but friends and there was no evidence to the contrary.

Somehow though rumors must have spread. But they were fundamentally incorrect he fumed internally, taking the turn toward the Royal Chambers. There had never been any signs of courtships given and they had never displayed any inappropriate affection with each other.

It frustrated Thorin to no end! How could the others assume such a thing had occurred? Did they not realize that they lay as friends do in time of comfort in their bed? The battle had taken so much from them all, he and Bilbo had simply rediscovered the comfort of a friend staying close during the long cold nights.

Granted it had come from necessity, the early days in Erebor when rooms had been scarce and then again when Thorin had been injured when Bilbo had stayed by his side even though he did not know it, and even later when so many dwarves had returned home and rooms were a limited luxury. Bilbo had never asked to move out nor even hinted that the time had come for him to find a room.

Grinding to a halt, Thorin had a sickening thought that made his blood run cold. Bilbo had been hanging around all day, despite normally being absorbed in his work around the mountain. He had been trying to get Thorin alone, but he hadn’t been in the mood to speak to his friend, not with the foul mood his sister had set him in. But, Thorin had seen the way Bilbo had been glancing around, watching the way people had been watching them. He had been wringing his hands with each look, like he was nervous, a tic that Thorin hadn’t seen since before the Battle of Five Armies.

It added up to Bilbo wanting to speak to him alone and being nervous about it. Thorin glanced up the hallway at his doors.

What if Bilbo _had_ been trying to tell him that it was time for them to have separate rooms?

Staring at the doors, Thorin made his feet walk to them and after opening them, forced them to carry him inside.

Bilbo was all ready in the bed, tucked under the covers, facing the edge of the bed. The light of the dwindling fire highlighted the hobbit’s sleeping face.

As his chest tightened up, Thorin felt like he had the answer to his question, even if it was exactly the answer he hadn’t wanted.

When he had finished his nighttime rituals, Thorin found himself laying on his side of the bed, a solid foot away from Bilbo and found himself knowing neither how he had created this rift nor how to mend it.

Forcing his eyes closed, he could only pray that Mahal would help him fix this mess. If indeed, he still had a chance.

-Past-

The bed in the camp of Men was no more comfortable than a bed of nails. Bilbo had not even tried to convince his body to rest, he knew it was no use. War loomed. Lives would be lost in untold numbers…all because Bilbo Baggins had failed at his tasks.

He had been so sure that Thorin would snap out of whatever hold the Arkenstone had over him that he had revealed that it was indeed him that had taken the stone and had given it to King Thranduil. Bilbo had been so sure it would wake him from the spell! He had seen the glimmer beneath that mask. He knew he had!

Then Thorin had fallen under the dragon-sickness completely…and nearly killed Bilbo in the process. Sweet Yavanna, the look on his face had been worse than death. Bilbo cursed himself for doing that. For having betrayed a King and worse having betrayed a friend.

Part of him knew that it was the right choice. There had been no other hope than to make the decisions he had. He just didn’t know why it had to hurt so much.

The camp around him was quiet. The snores he had blamed on his sleeplessness were far-gone and instead it seemed a hush had fallen over the camps of Men and Elves. Bilbo could only imagine what was going on inside the mountain. He felt sickened to realize that he would probably never know again.

After the battle in the morn, he promised himself that he would return to the Shire, to his home and most of all to his bed where he would be able to find some rest.

He promised himself these things and then forced his eyes shut to try to get some sleep before dawn.

Not an ounce did he find.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh fuck it's only going to get worse before it gets better. What am I doing? Heavy exposition in this one. Sorry.

-Present-  
  
Bilbo woke alone for the first time in his memory. If his head hadn’t been throbbing in a horrendous beat, he may have noted the odd nature of it, but as soon as he sat up the only thought he had was ‘what has died in my mouth?’ before burying his head back under the pillows.  
  
The night prior had been an utter disaster. He had wanted to speak to Thorin all day to no avail. Naively he had thought that maybe he would get a chance over dinner, but when the Company had gathered missing their leader and king, it seemed to only go downhill from there. Dis had commanded them to eat, enticing conversation even though everyone seemed to be in a sour mood. Bilbo could only stay lost in his thoughts over what Kili had told him. Were they all blaming him for the missing Thorin? Did they assume some sort of lover's quarrel?   
  
Dinner tasted different in his mouth, and Bilbo wished it didn't. Sensing his own foul mood, Dis produced wine for them to drink, since most of the dwarves present only consumed the ale. Dori accepted a glass, smiling up at the offering. Bilbo should have known better, but too much was weighing on his mind to watch his intake. It only took what felt like a few sips before the world was fuzzy and distant.   
  
The others were laughing, carrying on in better spirits, and Bilbo felt himself relax and ease back in his chair like he too had had his worries lifted from his shoulders.   
  
By the time dinner had subsided, Bilbo had to be half-carried back to the Royal Chambers by Dis and Fili, who kept talking over his head. Neither of them seemed concerned about him listening in, as they talked on about Thorin and his choices. Once or twice he was mentioned and he could only hope that it wasn't about the blasted Consort title again. They weren't even lovers yet, he groused.   
  
This seemed to get Dis and Fili's attention, and Bilbo had a split instant to wonder if he had said that out loud before blessed darkness crashed over him.   
  
Waking alone was punishment for drinking so heavily, it helped that he hurt all over like he had slept funny and now his body had to work out an odd stiffness in his joints and muscles. As he rolled over on the bed, his hand skimmed the sheets as if searching for a trace of Thorin on them. His chest ached, and Bilbo hoped that it wasn't a sign of his meal the night before coming to visit.   
  
Getting up from bed took more effort than he wanted, but he did manage to get into the restroom without breaking anything, a sight better than the last time he had wandered through Bag-End while recovering from intoxication.   
  
Bilbo ran himself a hot bath, stripping out of yesterday's clothes and depositing himself among the rising warm waves. He closed his eyes as he leaned back against the back of the tub. Letting the quiet rush of water overtake the pounding in his head, he took a deep breath and blew it out of his mouth. The water rose slowly, making it's way up his legs and finally his lap on his seat in the tub.   
  
By the time it finally covered his chest, Bilbo forced his eyes open and moved gently to turn off the water. He sighed as he settled back. Bits of the night before drifted forward from his memory. It was enough to know he should apologize to Dis and Fili. Their conversation had had something to do with Thorin, but Bilbo couldn't remember the details. He thought he had something on the matter, but he could not recall what he had said. Perhaps Fili or Dis would be able to tell him if he had embarrassed himself and he could apologize for that too.   
  
Now if only he could figure how to address the matter of the rumors with Thorin. He could not imagine it was doing well for his King to have so many people thinking that he was treating a lover so unjustly. Maybe it was time to admit certain facts about their relationship for public scrutiny. Sure, he supposed, he could understand that at a distance it might seem obvious that two adults sharing a bed with the frequency they did might lend to the notion of a more intimate nature, but that simply wasn't the truth. Bilbo tried to not think about the nights he had been forced from Thorin's side, when the healers had looked at him with fear for the King's life and Balin had tried to force his Hobbit friend to rest in another part of the mountain. No matter the comfort or amount of darkness or quiet, Bilbo had been unable to sleep away from his friend. Days had passed without rest and Bilbo had sworn he would never part from Thorin's side except by Thorin's own command.   
  
Even now, Bilbo did not think that he had slept the previous night except by aide of wine and the knowledge Thorin would be sleeping within arms length when he came to find rest. There had been many nights when Bilbo had gotten to bed before Thorin, only to find himself finally drifting to sleep when he could pull the dwarf close, listen to the steady breathing of his King. He did not dare imagine trying to sleep again without being able to hear Thorin's heartbeat as he closed his eyes at night. Or trying to get comfortable without Thorin's hands caressing his back or finding the spot on his neck that made his heart flutter. Sometimes Bilbo had wished that his hand might slip under his night shirt and stroke along his back. He imagined it would feel good to have those calloused hands soothe the aches of the day away, to rub and press on the spots that hurt on his back sometimes.   
  
More possibly they would find the spots he was ticklish along his side and Thorin would be relentless in making Bilbo squirm and giggle as he tried to get away. Thorin usually was when he found them through Bilbo's shirt. They had rolled around on the bed one morning, Bilbo too short to get away, not that he had been trying very hard. It had been pleasant to have Thorin's weight settled on top of him, his broad grin a sight that still made Bilbo weak-kneed. He had to admit Thorin was striking and to have that familiar face gazing down at him, looking at Bilbo like he had finally found the treasure he had been searching so desperately  f-  
  
Gasping, Bilbo startled out of his daydream and looked down through the water at the current erection he was sporting. He had not even been aware that he had gotten hard from his thoughts about Thorin. Reaching down he ran a hand down the tight flesh, hissing when pleasure burned through him fast like lightening. It had been some time since he had been able to find a release, but now? Thinking of his friend? No he couldn't like this. His thoughts were too focused on Thorin, on the way his smile appeared for Bilbo alone and his eyes shone with just a hint of mischievousness that always made him appear like he was about to do something wicked to Bil- Hissing again, Bilbo struggled to pull his hand away from his prick. It throbbed in response to the denial, and buoyed back against his stomach as if looking for any contact.   
  
Groaning, Bilbo moved closer to the spout, releasing the plug keeping the water in the tub, he turned on the cold water. It only took a minute, he had grit his teeth to keep his hips near the flowing ice water, but finally his erection subsided, and he could think again.   
  
Mostly, he thought that he needed to speak with Thorin, now more than ever. There was obviously attraction on his part and maybe they had been so worried about staying alive that they had never thought that there could be more to their relationship outside of friends.   
  
The thought was energizing, despite his hangover, Bilbo jumped from the tub, and the cold water. He snatched up his clothes and threw them on, not caring that he was still mostly dripping from the bath. If he rushed, he might catch Thorin before the start of his Council meeting.   
  
Racing through the halls, Bilbo felt like he did when he had raced from his home so many months ago, excitement and chance ahead of him. He laughed, realizing that once again he was chasing after Thorin Oakenshield. Once on the steps, Bilbo nearly slipped, but recovered, giggling wildly, earning more than a few odd looks from dwarves coming and going about their business.   
  
He nearly ran into Balin entering the Council room, the elder dwarf grinning in return of Bilbo's own smile.  
  
"Is Thorin inside? I need to speak with him. Has the meeting started?" Bilbo said in one rush of breath. He wanted to laugh, he felt so happy.  
  
"Slow down, laddie. The meeting has just started. He actually sent me to have a guard retrieve you for the meeting," Balin said. "Is it good news then?"   
  
"I hope so," Bilbo said, tugging on his friend so they could enter the meeting room. Other Council members were all ready present. Dis, Fili, and Kili amongst them. Other members of the Company were included, but some were not present. Most had other duties around the mountain.   
  
Dis' face was one of the first Bilbo caught sight of as Balin lead him around to their seats. She looked stricken, and Bilbo smiled broadly at her, remembering that he probably looked a sight in rumbled clothes and half-bathed.   
  
"Oh good, let's begin then, shall we?" Thorin said, moving a few scrolls around. He looked over at the other members, and leaned back a bit.  
  
"I brought Master Baggins in today so that I could make an announcement," Thorin said, and Bilbo's grin faltered a bit. He did not know what sort of announcement had to be made before the majority of the Council. Possibly as King, Thorin had to announce his desire to court Bilbo, since there seemed to be so much involvement from them about their relationship all ready.   
  
There were some murmurs around the table, that were silenced when Thorin held up his hand. Bilbo caught Dis' gaze again as she looked horrified at him. Bilbo thought he probably should have looked at a mirror before rushing here.   
  
"It is my decree that in no less than a week's time that a company be readied to return Master Baggins to the Shire. His services in reclaiming this mountain are praised, but have been completed for some time. We will gather the plans necessary to return him safely to his home," Thorin spoke clearly to the last word.  
  
The murmurs were practically shouts about the odd behavior it was for a King to send a Consort away in such a fashion. Most of the Council were questioning who best to send all ready and what provisions would have to be spared to get the dwarves that would accompany him there and back again.   
  
For all the noise, Bilbo could only hear the thudding in his chest as his heart slammed against his sternum in anguish. He looked away from Dis' face, unable to stand her look of despair anymore. Unable to stop himself, Bilbo turned his gaze to Thorin, but for the first time he did not recognize the dwarf sitting there wearing his King's crown. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly focused on the BoFA. Just remember that no one dies and you'll be okay. Major character injury TW just in case. 
> 
> Also thanks so much for all the comments/kudos. Holy fuck you guys have kudos'd over 400x! That makes this my most kudos'd story to date. Thanks!! ^_^ Keep 'em coming and hopefully you will all have more chapters soon!

-Past-  
  
What possible hope did a Hobbit have in war? It was the question that Bilbo came back to every time his vision cleared and he could wake from the horrid tasting medicine Balin had been forcing down his throat for the last two days.  
  
Two days since the war ended and still Bilbo felt less hope now than he did when he was being tossed from Erebor.  
  
And of course, it had everything to do with the three Durins asleep in the tent next to his.  
  
The battle had been waging long before Bilbo had seen anything of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. He had almost assumed that Thorin would not come out from the mountain. He thought the sickness had taken hold too strongly and there would be no hope of ever getting the Thorin he knew back.  
  
However, once in Dale, Bilbo had turned to see the dwarves bursting forth from the gates. Gandalf told him they were rallying to their king. Bilbo had never been prouder. But pride or the hope of seeing them did not last long. Thranduil told him that they would be overrun. Someone had to tell them, warn them, had to get to them in time.  
  
Bilbo had not even hesitated. He ran through a battle, his mind so focused on getting to Thorin that he hadn't even considered that maybe Thorin would not want to see him. He hoped that his warning would not fall on deaf ears.  
  
They hadn't, and for one brief second Thorin's face had split into a smile just for Bilbo and it had felt like something had erased all their distance and anger and hurt.  
  
Azog had destroyed the moment. He had Fili. Bilbo thought for sure that they were going to have to watch as Thorin's nephew was murdered right before their eyes.  
  
But that hadn't been the case. Fili, in a fit of brilliance, drew a knife from his coat and severed three of the fingers holding him. He slipped from Azog's grasp and fell so far before disappearing out of sight. Thorin screamed for this youngest nephew, knowing his brother wouldn't have been far.  
  
"Go to them!" Dwalin had said. "We'll hold them off." Bilbo gave Thorin a short nod and could only hope they might still have a chance to rescue the brothers.  
  
That would be the last time, Bilbo had swore to himself, the absolute last time he would watch Thorin run off into danger alone.  
  
Then the battle had consumed them.  
  
So much Bilbo did not learn until after the battle. Until after waking with his own blood dripping down his face, and Dwalin gone from sight. Everything had been blurry, except the thought that he had to get to Thorin. On unsteady feet, Bilbo had traversed the ice, finally seeing the body of his King. He had ran the last bit, not caring that his feet were numb and gray spots flitted about his vision.  
  
"Thorin, please no," he said, sinking to his knees.  
  
"Oh good, you're here," Thorin replied. "I wish to part from you in friendship."  
  
"Hush, you're going to be fine," Bilbo said, more than blood loss making his vision blurry. Tears rolled down his cheeks and he felt incapable of stopping them anytime soon.  
  
"Forgive me, I was too blind to see," Thorin said. "I am so sorry to have l have led you to such peril."  
  
"Hush," Bilbo cried, "There is nothing I would not forgive if you just hold on." He looked over to see Dwalin racing across the ice.  
  
"Hurry! He's injured!" Bilbo screamed, his voice cracking in his throat.  
  
"You should go back to your garden and plant your oak tree," Thorin whispered, eyes getting heavier. "Go back to your books and your armchair...to your home."  
  
"If that's what you want, I promise to go, but right now my place is here with you," Bilbo says.  
  
Thorin seemed to only half hear what he said because he nodded along. "Mine too," he replied, before Dwalin was there, crashing to his knees next to them.  
  
After that they were carrying Thorin back across the ice, blood dripping from each of them along the way. Bilbo had helped carry him to Gandalf who had proceeded to take Thorin from them and carry him off. For a moment, Bilbo could only watch his friend be whisked away, unsure if their effort would make any difference. Not sure if he would ever get to speak to Thorin again.  
  
Dwalin stood next to him, huffing and panting as he tried to catch his breath. Ori and Dori had showed up, hovering around them, eager it seemed for news or information. Bilbo went to open his mouth, to tell them that Thorin was injured, that he could very well be dying and Bilbo could do nothing more for him. The words never came, the Hobbit sucked in a sharp breath and then blackness clouded in around him and he collapsed, distantly hearing his name being screamed.  
  
Two days of intermittent consciousness. Two days of information over more medicine and forced bed rest. Two days and he barely knew much more about the battle than what he had prior.  
  
He did know that no Durin had passed yet. Fili and Thorin were still unconscious, but Kili was in and out all ready. Tauriel, an elf that had rumored had told was in love with Kili, had saved the youngest Durin in a fight against an orc called Bolg. They had managed to keep each other alive, but only with the help of Thranduil's son, Legolas. Kili had stepped in front of a blade headed for Tauriel, but it seemed that the wound had been mostly healed by elvish healers who had been offered for assistance by none other than King Thranduil himself.  
  
None of the others from the Company had been injured, blessedly. Bilbo had had a few visitors, mostly Balin, but it seemed there was so much to do that none really had the time to spare. He did not blame them, but it stung with the residual ache of his banishment. Still, it would rest on Thorin's shoulder when he wakes.  
  
Without the medicine, laced with a sleeping potion no doubt, Bilbo found rest far off and he took it as a sign to get up from his cot. He wobbled a bit, but found his way sure enough. It took longer than he was willing to admit to make it down the row of tents to the one with Dwalin standing guard.  
  
"Bilbo, you shouldn't be up," Dwalin scolded, coming forward to clasp one elbow; steadying Bilbo.  
  
"I need to see him, Dwalin." It was the best Bilbo could offer as an excuse. He wasn't sure what he would do if the dwarf refused him.  
  
"Come on then," Dwalin said, and turned pushing open the tent flap.  
  
The inside was surprisingly bright despite it being nearly night, and Bilbo attributed the light to the candles scattered across most surfaces. He couldn't help but think of that first night he had been found by Thorin, wandering in the cold. Oh how he wished he could relive the peace of that sleep he had gotten that night.  
  
Tall, curtained stands separated the tent into thirds. Fili was first, an elvish healer by his side feeling his forehead with the back of one elegant hand. The healer barely glanced at them, before resuming his tasks.  
  
Secondly was Kili's bed. He was propped up, but sound asleep, a red-headed elf holding his hand and smiling. She did look up but shared a smile with Dwalin.  
  
"He just dropped off, mid-sentence," she whispered to them. Dwalin smiled back to her.  
  
The last section was all Thorin's. It was warmer here than up front. Bilbo noticed there was a small pit fire keeping the tent toasty, survivable by the hole in the tent over it. Here there was no healer or loved one by the beside of the unconscious King.  
  
"He's mostly out of danger now. As the elves say anyway," Dwalin mutters. Bilbo nods, supposing that some distrust is normal for dwarves and probably still would have a long way to go before there was any standing trust between the two races. However, these thoughts were brief, the focus of Bilbo's thoughts were on the pale face of Thorin, the dark bruising around his shoulders, bare to the room because of the bandages wrapping his chest and abdomen.  
  
Blankets cover his lower half of his body, for which Bilbo is grateful. One foot is wrapped tight, with slight red discoloration around the middle. The bandages around his chest are reddish too, and Bilbo can't look away from them. He feels ill, and light-headed, but he pushes through it, leaning perhaps just a bit more on Dwalin than polite society would allow. Dwalin, of course, mentions nothing of it.  
  
Instead, he moves Bilbo to the chair next to Thorin's bed and deposits Bilbo there.  
  
"Stay as long as you need, I should return to the front," Dwalin says, and once Bilbo gives a nod, he leaves.  
  
The dizziness relinquishes after sitting for a bit. Bilbo cannot stop staring at Thorin's face, unable how he would be able to take this hurt away from his friend. He wants to shake Thorin awake; demand that he tell Bilbo that he's okay. He wants to curl up at his side and slide around his warm middle and listen to his heart beat. He wants...Bilbo shudders as he realizes he's crying, tears obscuring his vision. He shakes with the grief and without realizing it; he takes hold of Thorin's hand.  
  
Relief floods him almost immediately, to touch and feel the warmth of Thorin's palm underneath his own. Bilbo finds his fingers push against the unscathed skin of Thorin's wrist, pressing like Balin had taught him to feel the beating of Thorin's pulse, the rhythm of his heart echoed in his blood there. It is like a balm to Bilbo's heart, to feel the steady thrum of Thorin's life. He shakes his head and lets out a watery laugh.  
  
"This is surely the last time I cry at your bedside, Thorin Oakenshield," Bilbo says to the unconscious dwarf. He does not get a response but then again, he was not expecting one. Settling back in the chair, Bilbo got as comfortable as possible before letting his eyes close for a bit of rest. His fingers remaining cradled over his King's wrist. For assurance that was all.  
  
-Present-  
  
He barely had gotten back inside to the Royal Chambers before the first choked sob hit him. Bilbo gasped for breath, sucking in air as he stared at their bed- _No the King's bed_. It was _never_ Bilbo's bed. He had invaded where he hadn't been welcomed it seemed.  
  
Air felt thin in his lungs, as he struggled to draw enough to keep himself from shattering into a hundred pieces. How could this of happened? He didn't know what he had done. Tears dropped on the pillow he was holding, only then realizing he had crawled over the covers in his haste. The pillow was Thorin's and Bilbo felt no shame burying his face in it as the panic of being sent so far from the dwarf he loved finally crashed over him. It consumed him as he screamed his tears into the soft fabric.  
  
The silence of the Chambers the only support offered to him, as his cries softly mellowed out as time passed by. No relief from the familiar fabric and scents. Bilbo did not think comfort would ever be found for him in that bed again. After all, what comfort could he find in a stranger's bed?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you guys have been waiting patiently for this. I think I finally have this chapter to my liking. Expect the rest of the story pretty quick (I'm hoping to complete by the weekend). Thanks for all the comments & kudos! *BIG FREAKIN HUGS* ^_^
> 
> Oh and Thorin is about to do more dumb. Who's surprised? Also Dwalin/Ori heavy chapter. You'll get back to the angry couple in a bit.

-Present-

Willingly, Dwalin would take on Azog the Defiler, his entire orc army, Lord Dain's foul breath and an angry Lady Dis than to ever relive the day he's having.

Breakfast had been pleasant enough. Ori had made him an assortment of foods and they had eaten together, trading kisses between bites. They had discusses their upcoming nuptials, just two months time, and then split for the day. Ori wandering off to the library and Dwalin to the meeting hall.

Then his day took an abrupt turn for the worse. Upon seeing Thorin, Dwalin knew that something awful would happen this day. His King was in a fouler mood than if King Thranduil had just taken control of Erebor. He ordered guards about, sent for scrolls from the library and assemble the Council in one of the quickest summons he'd ever seen.

The Council had come, confused by Thorin's increasingly dark mood, Dis tried to pull him aside, but Thorin would not have it. He sent her to sit, and did the same with his nephews. Of course, then he sent for Bilbo and Dwalin shared a worried look with Dis. 

Needless to say, the meeting was torture. Dwalin would give up both arms to never have to see that look cross Bilbo's face again. His friend didn't need to speak for him to know this decision had been Thorin's and his alone. The Hobbit was devastated.

Dwalin had watched him run from the meeting hall and immediately sent for Ori to go to Bilbo. He needed a friend, and Thorin requested the Council resume after only a minimal break. He kept them sequestered until finally well past noon, Dis ordered them all to lunch. Thorin's look had been murderous, but he had allowed it.

The King did not leave for the meal.

Dwalin had left his side, sprinting to library then to the Royal Chambers, but finding nothing of his beloved or the Hobbit. When a guard came to fetch him, stating that Thorin wanted his return as soon as possible, Dwalin gave up the search, and unable to find food in the short time, returned to the Council stomach grumbling and heart clenching with worry.

It was obvious when they returned that the Council assumed they would be moving on to other matters, but Thorin pressed on with the return trip for Bilbo. He seemed focused on getting Bilbo home as soon as possible, and when it was brought up that it would still take days to gather the necessary supplies, Thorin all but drew his sword.

Even when Dis tried to get them to break around dinner, Thorin ordered them to carry on. He brought up the names of guards to go, even though several Council members questioned why one Hobbit would need almost a full squad to accompany him. Dwalin felt nearly ill at this point, several guards had begun to eye their King like maybe this was a return of the madness, but he knew better. No, this madness was no born from the mind and a love of gold. This came straight from a love-stricken heart.

Mahal knew Dwalin had been trying to keep his mouth out of the situation, but he knew the others had been wrong in demanding marriage when it was clear to anyone who wanted to see that they were not lovers. Too many afternoons, Dwalin had followed Thorin to the veranda where Bilbo had been allotted a modest patch of soil to garden as he saw fit.

He had watched them, strolling through the aisles, Thorin commenting on plants, even though the dwarf couldn't tell a piece of lettuce from a rose bush. Bilbo had dragged him along, showing him where he would make changes in the warmer weather, because he had been preparing since mid-winter. Dwalin had known then that while they both loved each other, neither had realized how deeply they had fallen. He didn't even have to look to know they had not yet been lovers. It was in the way Thorin stuttered around the topic of when Bilbo would be back at their Chambers that evening or when Bilbo would talk on and on about how he still hadn't made Thorin a specific recipe, even though the ingredients would yet be ready for months. 

Without realizing it, they had been building a life together, and all it had taken was the Council, at Dis' pushy insistence, to start requesting information on their upcoming engagement to send their rudimentary structure falling around everyone's ears.

When they finally did break, Thorin withdrew to his study, with the plans for the return trip and denied the request that someone bring him dinner. Dwalin barely spared a glance of concern with Dis, before heading off in the direction of the group's dining hall.

It was well beyond the time that Dwalin normally stopped by to accompany Ori to dinner. Sometimes Ori would send him away, saying he had a bit to do before joining them, or if Dwalin was too busy with things for the next day, they would meet at dinner when they could. Swinging through the group's dinner, Dwalin only looked over to confirm his suspicions before turning about and marching towards his chambers.

What he found took his foul mood and turned it dark. Sprawled out on his bed covers, crying gently and nearly silent enough that he would have missed it...except this is exactly what Dwalin had feared. Moving quickly to Ori's side, he took his beloved's hands in his, kissing them as Ori buried his face away to try and stop the tears.

"Beloved," he whispered.

"Bilbo is going to leave," Ori admitted, turning back to face his future husband, red puffy eyes breaking Dwalin's heart.

"I am aware," he said, rubbing the chill from Ori's arms with one hand.

"I helped him move all his belongings to the South Wing," Ori said. Dwalin sucked in a harsh breath. The South Wing was about as far as one could get from the Royal Chambers without being outside the mountain. This didn't bode well for them at all. He had hoped that Bilbo would be angry, would argue with Thorin over his irrational decision, instead it seemed that Bilbo was going to retreat...all the way to the Shire to avoid confronting Thorin.

They were losing their friend two months before their wedding and to a broken heart. Dwalin knew part of Ori's old insecurities had caused these tears. When they had first courted, Ori had been convinced that Dwalin would one day drop all affection for him in favor of another, more impressive, dwarf. It had scared him so bad that sometimes he would start arguments just to push Dwalin away. The resulting grief had only ended when Dwalin had made it clear that he had no intentions towards ever leaving Ori, unless it was by Ori's own wishes.

Bilbo had been the one to help Ori through that time, steering the young dwarf back to reason time and time again. Now an entire kingdom of dwarves could not make the pair of them see reason.

Before Dwalin could get another word out, a guard knocked on the door, demanding that Dwalin return to Thorin at his request. Sighing, Dwalin kissed Ori's knuckles.

"Send for dinner. I will return shortly," he says.

"I'm not really-"

Pressing a firm kiss to those lips, Dwalin smiles.

"Send for dinner, then we will enjoy the rest of our night, I swear, beloved." Nodding, and only blushing a little, Ori sits up to wipe away the remaining tears. Dwalin kisses him one more time, then exits his chambers. He gets the details from the guard then sends him off.

Making his way back to Thorin's study, Dwalin thinks on what could possible be so important this late, and doesn't like the scenarios that his mind comes up with. He knocks on the study door, entering when Thorin's gruff tone allows it.

"My King," Dwalin greets, not willing to press his luck with being informal.

"Good, Dwalin, I need to speak with you about the guards going on the trip to the...Shire," he says, and draws a couple scrolls to him.

"I've seen the list, and they all look like honorable dwarves, Your Majesty," he says. "Were you looking for me to make a recommendation for the leader of the expedition?"

"No, I already know who I want to lead," Thorin says and looks up at Dwalin.

"Oh? Well that's good, should I infor-"

"I want you to go," he cuts Dwalin off. 

For a moment, Dwalin's brain tries to work out what he has just heard, because no that cannot be correct.

"My King, my wedding is in two months time, surely you could find someone else to return Bi-" He stops as Thorin's eyes shoot him an unreadable look. Dwalin clears his throat. "There are other who would be excellent choices for this trip."

"No, it has to be you," Thorin says, shrugging off Dwalin's concerns. Undeterred, he starts again.

"There isn't any possible way for me to return within two months time, Thorin. I have a wedding that has been planned since mid-winter. I cannot leave now," he insists.

"I will pay for the cost to push back your wedding," Thorin says, overruling the objection. Dwalin blanches at the disregard for his wedding date.

"Certainly Blaen or-" Dwalin is cut off again, but not by the anger he expected to come next. Instead it is a quiet turn of Thorin's head and a mutter that stops Dwalin cold this time.

"You are the only one I trust to return him safely to the Shire." Thorin looks down and clenches his fist to his leg, moving as though the whole conversation has brought him pain.

"I would go myself but I doubt I could survive the journey, Dwalin," Thorin shook his head, his dark hair falling into his face, hiding the look of anguish that crosses his face.

"You must go. You must go where I cannot." There is pain in his voice. "You must see him safely to his home. I cannot go."

His heart revolts at the thought of this, at moving their wedding date, of leaving Ori for so long, of even telling Ori, but, when faced with this, Dwalin knows that he has no choice. It feels like removing a sword from Thorin's stomach to raise in defense of Bilbo, but all Dwalin can do is nod.

"I'll go, My King."

 --

As Dwalin returns to his chambers, it seems that with the fall of night, the announcement of Bilbo's departure had spread to every corner of Erebor, and probably most of Dale, and it was not met with any type of joy by anyone. A dark hush, instead, had fallen over the mountain. The mood the previous night had been one of normalcy, but now it looked as though everyone now was preparing for something worse than a dragon to be consuming their halls.

Reaching his door, Dwalin rested his forehead against the wood. He could smell the dinner inside that Ori had gotten for them. His beloved was humming lightly, the pain and tears pushed aside because of his trust that Dwalin could make things better.

Taking a long slow breath, Dwalin wished again for an army to defeat, a chance to be run through with a sharp knife or bludgeoned with rocks or pierced with a hundred arrows than to go through the door and break his beloved's heart with this news.

But there is no army, and Dwalin admits his defeat by pulling away and opening the door. He braces himself as he takes the few steps across the threshold, but in the end it doesn't help. To be simply put, there was no way the day could get any worse.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so wanting to be done Sunday was a bit ambitious of me (I forgot it was Mother's Day). But we are getting very close. I suspect only five or six more chapters after this one. 
> 
> This chapter and the next two(?) focus on the rebuilding after BotFA. This one is told from Bilbo's perspective and the next is from Thorin's. Essentially it is them reconnecting as Thorin heals.
> 
> OMG THANK YOU GUYS FOR ALL THE COMMENTS AND KUDOS -holy fuck 660x-YOU ALL ARE THE FRICKIN BEST.

-Past-

The chaos of war was nothing compared to the chaos that followed in Bilbo’s opinion. He isn’t sure how to manage all the comings and goings of dwarves. There was no true space for Bilbo to have to himself. The tent, which he had been kept in for the three days while his head recovered enough, was soon taken over by the overflow of wounded still needing the space to mend. It was of no matter to Bilbo. Every night he returned to Thorin’s bedside, waiting for a change in his condition. The relief that came from being able to reach out and feel the dwarf’s life pulsing in his veins put him to sleep even in that uncomfortable chair. Truly, he knew there was no other place for him to spend his nights.

His days, however, were another matter.

The weather was the first obstacle after the battle. Winter had begun its descent over the valley and did not show any signs of slowing. King Thranduil and King Bard were working restlessly to ensure those left from Laketown would survive the upcoming winter in Dale. This consisted mostly of repurposing the old abandoned city to house the remaining population. 

Those able, under Dain's orders had been sent into Erebor to work on getting the mountain ready for the upcoming winter. It was a time race, and all seemed focused on the future and getting them through the upcoming winter. The dwarves had their work cut out for them, because only five days past the battle they received word that a caravan was on its way from the Blue Mountains. A large group of dwarves, originally from Erebor, would be returning home, just before the worst of winter set in if they had planned it right.

After a week, Thorin awoke, so briefly that Bilbo had only just seen the blues of his eyes before sleep claimed him once more. Balin had pressed a hand to his shoulder and told him that it would work out in the end. Bilbo did not have that belief.

The next day King Thranduil and King Bard had called Bilbo to a meeting with Dain and Balin- to mediate as it was. Suddenly the next week was consumed with council and meetings and scrolls and figures and _so much yelling_. Where before Bilbo had been tasked with helping Oin with those still mending, now he moved from one chair to another. 

Of course, about then the headaches set in. It would only take Dain raising his voice for Bilbo’s head to start pounding. He tried to push the pain away, thinking of Thorin’s unconscious form- still fighting to regain his life and Bilbo would fight through the pain. It didn’t help his stomach had rebelled with his head, and many days found him pushing his meals away or if it got too bad he would find himself vomiting the meal up again.

Ever perceptive, Balin had been the first to notice- mid-meeting of course when Bilbo hadn’t been careful about hiding the wince at Dain’s volume. Balin had waited until the time had closed before drawing him aside.

“Laddie, I know that King Thranduil and King Bard asked you to come to these meetings, but not at the sake of your health,” Balin lectured. He gently moved aside Bilbo’s hair to look at the wound. It was mostly healed, a thin, jagged red line on the side of his head, obscured except when his hair was moved.

“I’m fine, Balin,” Bilbo says, voice weak because loud noises still irritate his head. He feels as though he’s has a long night with ale and is now paying the price.

“All the same, I think tomorrow you should take the day off tomorrow. We’ll get by without you.”

Unsure how to disagree without making his head hurt worst, Bilbo just let it go.

Of course, that night Thorin’s wounds brought him fever and infection and Bilbo found himself away from meetings anyway.

\--

“Bring me another bowl of water, cooler this time,” Bilbo said, handing off the bowl to an Elf healer. Arguably they had other things to be doing than running errands for a Hobbit, but after the night prior…Bilbo sat down wearily, as the Elf left.

The wounds to Thorin’s chest were red, inflamed and last night one of the Elves had tried a remedy-only they had gotten it very wrong, causing Thorin more pain than comfort. It had taken all of the night and now most of the morning to get things back under control. The best of their healers had come to take him aside, scolding where necessary, and apologizing when he could. Bilbo had blocked Dwalin from causing a scandal, but in the end, Balin had to drag his brother away from starting another war.

Balin had been called away to settle things between Dain, who had heard only that an Elf had tried to kill Thorin and Thranduil, whom had taken the accusation personally. Bilbo did not envy him that argument.

Leaning back, Bilbo rubbed tiredly at his face. He tried to not think about the last time he had slept or ate. His headache had gone away some time between Thorin’s screams and Dwalin’s. A dull ache lingered along his forehead, but it was minimal.

Fili and Kili had been removed from the tent at some point during the night. Fili was still unconscious, but Kili had been up-demanding answers and nearly re-injuring himself trying to get out of the bed. Tauriel had kept him still, and then helped the others move him to another tent, along with his brother. It was a preventative measure, Oin had assured Bilbo, because their wounds were still so fresh it was imperative to make sure the infection remained with Thorin.

Looking over at Thorin, Bilbo sighed. The wound to his nose was mostly healed, along with the minor scrapes and cuts that were the first to disappear. The remaining ones that were infected were the stab wounds to his foot, chest, and abdomen. While reduced from what they had been, each of the wounds now had taken on a red inflamed appearance, plus a swelling that had only gotten worse over night.

“Bilbo?” a familiar voice spoke up, and he lifted his head to offer a smile to Ori.

“Ori, apologies, I did not hear you come in,” he said, clearing his throat when he realized the hoarse nature of his voice.

“Bombur made some stew and Balin said that you probably hadn’t eaten today.” Ori held up a bowl.

“Of course, thank you,” Bilbo stood, moving to get the bowl from him. Ori came around, handing it over, before moving to the far side where there was a chair the healers had been using.

“Lord Dain’s people have cleared access to the rooms in the South Wing,” Ori said, obviously uncomfortable with the silence.

Bilbo nodded, and took a tentative bite of the stew. It was bland and looked about as appetizing as the bowl itself but honestly it was the best thing Bilbo had ever tasted in weeks. If Bombur had been in the room, Bilbo may have kissed him.

“The most stable of their wounded returned home. It’s good I suppose, less mouths to feed and all that,” Ori shifted, glancing over at Thorin.

Pushing around the stew, Bilbo chewed slowly. His limbs felt heavy with every passing moment. He wondered if it would be terribly rude to rest his eyes while Ori spoke.

“Our wounded will be moved into the mountain once there is access to the healer’s rooms is available,” Ori said. “It’ll be nice to get our own rooms.”

Snapping alert, Bilbo looked to Thorin, because he hadn’t even thought about that. Soon they would be moving the rightful King back into his bedchambers when they got that section cleared. Dwalin had mostly turned a blind eye to Bilbo’s sleeping form by Thorin’s side, but in the Royal Chambers? That would be no place for a lowly Hobbit to be.

“Bilbo?” Ori asked, noticing the rigid way the Hobbit was holding himself.

Looking over at his worried friend, Bilbo offered a smile and handed back the bowl of stew.

“I need to change Thorin’s bandages, Ori. Thank you for the stew,” Bilbo offered another smile, even if this one looked more like a grimace than anything else.

Nodding, and flushing a bit, Ori bowed out quickly, nearly colliding with Dwalin on his way out. The older dwarf carried the bowl of water that Bilbo had sent for, and after muttering something to Ori, he went to Bilbo, offering up the bowl.

Consumed with his own thoughts, Bilbo missed the look of longing Ori casted at Dwalin before disappearing out of the tent. Too much uncertainty lay before them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of this will read like last chapter only from Thorin's POV. I swear there is a point to all this! Thanks again everyone!! You guys are srsly fricking amazeballs.

-Past-

Waking felt like wading through the deepest tar and sludge. Thorin wasn't sure what had happened, only that time felt like a distant concept of which he had lost all control.

Someone was talking to him, others were shouting and Thorin wished they would stop. A hand squeezed his and he felt his lips twitch with a half-formed grimace.

“Thorin can you hear me? Can you open your eyes again?” It was Bilbo Baggins. Thorin wanted to open his eyes for him, though, confused because he didn’t think that he had opened them yet. Then Oin’s voice overrode the voices shouting, giving orders for specific medications. He wanted to laugh it felt so good to hear those voices again.

“He’s not opening his eyes,” Bilbo says.

“This is no good,” Oin says, close to Thorin’s right side. He frown, and tries to speak, but can’t make his throat force out the sounds. Someone grips his hand harder.

“Thorin, please open your eyes again,” Bilbo says, his voice sounding watery and hoarse. Thorin rallies against the pain, he needs to see Bilbo because something is obviously wrong. In the back of his mind, he remembers war and anger and fighting but it slips just out of reach and he has no strength to go after it.

The lights are soft but still too bright when he cracks his eyelids open. He struggles to adjust to the brightness and blinks several times to get a clearer image. His eyelids scratch and itch at his eyes as he blinks.

“-ilbo?” he asks, tongue sticking to his gums.

“Yes, Thorin, stay awake if you can okay? He’s awake, can you…” His voice drifts away and Thorin realizes too late that he still doesn’t know why Bilbo was crying.

-

The next time he wakes, his body is on fire. Everything burns and he screams out, the pain tearing away his control as he thrashes about. There are voices again, people shouting, and commanding around him. He tries to focus on what they were saying but it is no use, the pain pressed in on his senses, dulling them so it feels like his head is wrapped in cloth.

He remembers vaguely that Bilbo should be there, or was there, but he can’t recall when. Fire flickers up and down his body and he calls for it to stop. Whatever has gotten him strengthens its hold as it weighs down his limbs.

A voice calls for him to settle, for him to calm. He recognizes the voice, but he can’t listen now. Everything piece of him feels like an inferno, like Smaug himself had trapped him down and encased him in dragon fire. The pain peaked into a white-hot searing that only served to spread when he was held still. Begging, he tried to toss off the weights around his limbs, but they held fast.

More voices, more shouting. The pain clawed its way up his spine and Thorin finally let go of the world’s hold on him.

-

When the fire fell, Thorin felt it. He wasn’t sure if he awoke or was still asleep when his eyes cracked open to see a hunched over figure by his side. Everything still felt hazy. He made a sound, trying to call for someone, when he felt a warm hand touch to his forehead.

"Get Oin, his fever has broke," the voice is familiar and Thorin tries to remember to recall anything about why he was so warm. He makes protests, really well devised complaints but it got lost in a garbled bit of nonsense that has him cursing his mouth.

"Shh. Hush, Thorin. You're okay," the voice says.

He would like to disagree; he doesn’t feel okay. His body aches and stings and even the thought of raising a hand, to do _anything_ , makes him want to weep.

“Oh, Thorin, shhh.” The hand soothes his forehead, and he realizes that he is indeed crying. A cool cloth runs over his brow and he wants to explain that they are tears of joy not of pain. Joy for waking from whatever has happened, joy from having this person by his side. The voice keeps muttering to him, telling him that everything is going to be okay, and that he’ll heal soon.

He can’t remember why this voice means so much to him, or why its promises ease a tension he hadn’t realized was there. Instead, Thorin gives into the way it mollifies his fears. For a bit he floats in a half-awake and half-asleep state.

Just before the world gets too far away, Thorin feels lips press against his temple and the voice whisper to him.

“Rest now.”

-

Whatever dazed existence he had been living in, disappears the instant Thorin awakes next. He isn’t sure what wakes him, could have been anything, but he finds himself almost strangely disappointed to see Balin sitting on his right.

“Welcome back, laddie. Gave us quite the scare,” Balin says, with a large relieved grin. He leans forward and offers up a cup of something. Thorin immediately leans up to get it, because his mouth feels like he has been chewing on straw for too long.

“Easy,” Balin warns, and then cool water passes his lips and Thorin closes his eyes in relief.

“-ili?” he asks as soon as his throat works again. Balin thankfully doesn’t make him specify.

“Both still live. Fili has woken just this morn, finally. Kili is mostly healed up, by now. Elvish medicine has worked wonders in this camp,” Balin seems to nod his head about for a second before muttering, “for the most part.”

Thorin doesn’t even want to know.

“Company?” he asks. He can’t remember much of the battle, can’t even recall how he was injured.

“In tact, all fifteen members accounted for. Even the wizard made it through,” Balin says, not adding any names, he offers up the cup again and he leans forward. Thorin is grateful that Balin included Bilbo in that number. He wasn’t sure but it felt like ages since he had last seen the -.

Memory washed over him in pieces -The infection of his mind, the takeover of his soul for- _for gold_. Shame courses through him, right behind the guilt of falling prey to that accursed disease. He jerks away as he remembers the gates; the look of horror on Bilbo’s face comes in clear.

“Where’s-“ he cries out when he tries to sit up. Pain flares through his chest, it protests with a sharp ache that sends him falling back to the cot. He groans, as Balin tries to comfort him, but Thorin pushes him away, the cup thudding to the ground when his arm goes wide.

Fighting against the spike of pain in his chest and the heaviness in his limbs when he tries to continue using them, Thorin tries to get out the words to demand to know that Bilbo is safe that he didn’t actually succeed in throwing him from the gates. Mahal strike him dead if he-

“Thorin!” a voice cuts through his struggles and his breath catches immediately in his throat.

“What happ-“

“ _Bilbo,_ ” the relief is so strong Thorin can almost feel it on his skin. He launches immediately into an apology. “I have no right to beg your forgiveness but I-“ He gets no more out, before Bilbo is by his side, taking up his shaking hand.

“No more, hush. Balin please,” Bilbo says, nodding to something in the corner.

It is not enough, not nearly for what he has done, for the pain that he has caused. There would never be enough apologies, enough penance for him to begin to make amends.

“Here,” Bilbo says, taking up another cup that Balin hands over. He wants to refuse, to never accept this kindness from Bilbo when he has taken so much…but the Hobbit has already coaxed him into leaning up and drinking some sort of herbal concoction. It tastes strong and Thorin nearly chokes on it.

“I did not mean, nor will I ever-“ he tries to start again, but Bilbo is tipping the cup up towards his mouth and he can only accept another mouthful of the liquid.

“Rest now, you still need to mend. There is time for words later.”

With these words, Thorin realizes exactly the purpose of the liquid medicine. The pain eases from his chest nearly fading as fast as it came. Released from the distress, he becomes aware how heavy his eyelids feel.

Bilbo offers a tiny smile, hand still clasping his own, and Thorin allows the promise to sink in. Later he will apologize, later he will find the words to mend the anguish he has caused. Unable to stop himself, Thorin embraces the unconscious pulling at him. The time for his pleas and any possible absolution will have to wait.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next time that I say I'm going to take a break from writing, kindly remind me that that it is the stupidest idea and that I hate not writing and hate falling into the slump of not writing and how freakin' hard it is to get back to where I can write. 
> 
> Also, I have been reading all the wonderful comments in my absence and want to thank you all for your patience and understanding that real life comes first. While quitting these stories has crossed my mind and plagued me for days to take action instead of letting my continued break be my only action, I can say that I won't be allowing my problems from real life to affect my passion for writing. 
> 
> I have closed my askbox on my tumblr and started to go through the long list of demands for fics. It will reopen once I've gotten things on track. I'm going to get my writings organized and myself back in the writing habit and start getting things out for you guys. In the works is another Hobbit fic but I won't be putting that one up until this one is completed. 
> 
> I know this is a long notes section but I owe it to you guys and I owe to myself to explain a bit. 
> 
> Thank you. Without your support this chapter would not have been finished. 
> 
> I only hope it lives up to your expectations. 
> 
> Lots of love  
> -Kali

**-Present-**

Thorin is making the right decision. He keeps telling himself that right from when he made the announcement of Bilbo's departure to now when he finds himself hiding in his study once again. He knew that this decision would hurt him, but he made it for Bilbo.

He wishes he could speak with his friend; apologize for not realizing what a clingy old king he had become. He wishes he could tell Bilbo he hadn't known how much he had been hurting him by not sending him home sooner. Thorin figured out too late the damage he had done.

Now Bilbo wouldn't even look at him. Ashamed to have a reputation for being the King's Consort but having none of the status it should have afforded. Thorin knew he was not a desirable dwarf, especially not to a Hobbit and now...

He shook his head. His heart realized itself too late. Too late in knowing that he had fallen in love _\- in love_ with a Hobbit that would never be able to return those feelings.

And who could blame Bilbo? Thorin had barely been able to keep him as a friend. How much hope did he have of enticing him as a lover?

None- that's how much. He spent too long holding onto Bilbo in the dark - too long pretending that it was all as simple as he wanted it to be. They were friends. They had been through too much trauma to sleep well apart. Well that was the truth- for Thorin.

Flushing angrily, he thought of how many nights Bilbo had probably tried to pull away and Thorin had kept him close. How many mornings had Bilbo gotten up first, probably desperate for freedom and space. The mornings he had stayed were probably due to exhaustion and not the desire to stay close to Thorin like he had once imagined.

Shoving a stack of scrolls to the floor in one motion, Thorin curses himself. What a selfish fool he had been…again. The sooner Bilbo left the sooner his heart could start to move on from this state.

**-Past-**

By the time the first flurry, casting down from the sky, lands, the dwarves of Erebor estimate only a fortnight before the harshest of conditions set in. A raven from the traveling dwarves, from the Blue Mountains, states that they will arrive in less than half that time.

The time for negotiations is set aside. Dain abandons his post now that Thorin has awoken. He leaves behind a small mass of dwarves to continue the repairs to the mountain until those dwarves from the Blue Mountains can pick up the slack.

Fili wakes the same day as Thorin. In spite of his long period of activity, the young Prince of Erebor picks back up into the rhythm of life. He heals quicker now awake and makes amazing progress in only a few short days. The healers are astounded at the pace he picks things up again. He bounces back too quickly for Kili’s tastes, who still struggles to heal his largest wounds. The youngest Durin still can’t walk for long periods of time, but Fili, with only a long since healed head wound and some minor pain from sleeping so long, is up and about in no time.

Their uncle, on the other hand, heals at the pace of stubborn pony. His constant disobedience to the orders for bed rest means that as the first flurry lands, he still lies in a tent shadowed by the partially rebuilt Dale. When he tries to demand to return to Erebor, Oin just levels a look that speaks to just _try it._

Most of the others flit between the mountain and the remaining camp. They know that they will have to break camp soon, but Oin worries over the state of Thorin’s stitches and even a smooth trip could still see more damage that Thorin would have to recover from yet.

The camp dwindles to a bare crew, most back in Erebor trying to rebuild and fortify the mountain for the upcoming winter. Not to mention there are barely enough rooms in the South Wing to hold the dwarves there let alone the mass returning.

Thorin takes his frustration on the new pile of scrolls and parchment that needs his attention. His body aches constantly, but it eases when he can sign off on trade agreements that have been co-signed by _Bilbo Baggins of Shire_. The first bunch allow for an influx of food to return to the mountain and he breathes easier knowing that those working hard will have some fresh stores to draw on.

His memory is probably the source of his most constant disappointment. There are gaps in it that he doubts will ever return. The dreaded memories of his poor behavior to the Company and the atrocious manner in which he handled Bilbo’s attempt to save them...those, _those,_ he remembers with absolute clarity. Most of the battle was there. Fili’s frightened cry when he plummets from Azog’s hands and the pain of a blade to his chest ring through easily.

But _after_ , he lacks those memories. He knows from others that Bilbo and Dwalin carried him back to camp, saving him from a certain death. No one knows what happened when Bilbo found him on the ice.

Well, one Hobbit knows but so far had not been speaking on it.

It was not from lacking of trying on Thorin’s part, but Bilbo seems consumed by his new role as mediator. As King, Thorin would have hoped this meant he would be seeing more of the Hobbit, but in fact, he can barely get enough word in to check that Bilbo is present before he gets rushed off to something else. While frustrating, there is little to be done about it until things calm down.

Oin requests that Thorin stay in the camp for another five days before they return to mountain. It grants them all a bit more time for negotiations and the workers a chance to clear more of the mountain.

There seems no way to draw Bilbo into conversation about whatever transpired on the ice, so Thorin pleads for silence on the matter of his memories. Oin grants the request, but urges him to tell the others so they might help fill in the gaps. Thorin saves that for a more desperate time.

**-Present-**

The night does not feel like a spring evening. Cold bites at the exposed skin of the lone Hobbit in Erebor. Light of a single torch illuminates an empty terrace.

Bilbo tries to imagine the way the light fills the space, but for the moment it feels too raw to recover a happy memory of his garden. No, he shakes his head. Not his garden. _His_ garden is in the Shire, where he belongs. His home…

Letting out a ragged sigh, Bilbo rubs a hand over his face. He hands the torch off to Bofur, whose face has developed a frown that has yet to be eased since Bilbo requested his and Ori’s assistance relocating to the South Wing. The dwarf takes the light and holds it up, casting an eerie glow over the dark plants.

“Not too much water on them, the drainage is still problematic on the end. The soil should be damp but not soaked,” Bilbo says.

Bofur nods, offering a forced smile. They both know this is all for naught. Dwarf hands aren’t for soil and plants and… Still it helps ease the ache in his chest, so Bilbo continues on.

“Don’t let Ori forget to harvest the flowers. They’ll grow quick and the cooks can use them, but not too much or Bombur will over-season the meal,” Bilbo says. He crouches down as a stem has bent over awkwardly nearly causing another stem to break under the weight.

“It’s a nice garden, Bilbo,” Bofur says, in lieu of anything helpful to add.

Stems fixed, Bilbo stands and looks over the rows of dark soil and the still frame of growing plants. All short statured with room still to grow in the future, one Bilbo realizes he won’t be there to see.

The cold bites at his nose and rubs the back of his hand across it. His lips chafe when he rubs them together but he resists the urge to lick them.

“It was a nice garden,” he says, at last. He nods to himself, accepts Bofur comforting touch his shoulder as he walks past. He stays ahead of the torch on the walk back the South Wing so no one will see the tear streaks on his face.

**-Past-**

At noon on the fourth day of quite forced rest, Dwalin pushed up a flap of a storage tent. Taking a quick inventory of those present all of whom are trying to pack up the remaining items, he growls and forces himself to go back out into the cold.

Coming down the aisle of tents, Balin waves him down. Dwalin looks around, but frowns and waits for his brother.

“I have not been able to find him,” he says when Balin is close enough.

The older dwarf sighs and rubs his face through his beard. He, also, looks around in a search for something not there.

“He has been suffering headaches lately, it is probable that he has one and found somewhere quiet to rest,” Balin says. Dwalin nods, already knowing of the pains Bilbo has been enduring. He had noted dark crescents under the Hobbit’s eyes a lot more of late.

A sudden bout of laughter makes them turn as they see several guards passing by. Balin huffs.

“Though where in this camp could he find quiet I suppose,” he says.

Dwalin grumbles his discontent for the search. He eyes up and down the aisle again, before a thought dawns in his mind.

“There is one place I have not checked. It would be quiet enough,” Dwalin says and gives his brother a significant look.

Balin’s eyes widen.

**-Present-**

Leaning back in her chair, Dis studies the slow burning wood in her fireplace. She didn’t know how her day had turned out this way, but now she had a recluse brother, several friends that will not speak with her, and a should-be-brother-in-law moved to the Southern Wing.

None of this had been her intention. Returning to Erebor had brought such joy, such hope for a future; she had lost her years of skepticism. _Her children had survived a war. Her brother had returned their kingdom to their people._ Life had seemed full of possibilities again.

But Dis realized how naïve she had been. The sight of a budding romance between Thorin and Bilbo Baggins, Erebor’s Burglar, had made her lose her rational sense. She had become determined to see her brother with a Royal Consort, especially one that brought him so much joy. _They had been so happy._

All she had wanted was to make it permanent, and instead she had set about unraveling it to its very core.

Closing her eyes, she wondered if there were any good options left to try and mend something she had no hand in creating. Would anyone be able to set them back on the path they should be on?

**-Past-**

The tent in question is near silent when Balin and Dwalin approach it. Blaen, one of Dwalin’s most trusted guards, stands at the entrance. He is an older dwarf, with several gray streaks in his otherwise brown hair. His beard reaches just above the jut of his stomach. It is braided in simple fashion, with one main braid with several braids inside of the one.

“Blaen, has anyone come to visit the King?” Dwalin asks, when they are close enough to be heard over the clatter of dwarfs breaking down the remaining tents.

“Only the Hobbit,” Blaen says.

Dwalin and Balin share a look.

“I’ll inform the others to call off the search,” Balin says, and pats his brother on the shoulder.

“Aye,” Dwalin says after his brother.

“The search?” Blaen asks, after Balin has gone off.

“Master Baggins was expected to return to the negotiations between Dale and Erebor this morn, but has been missing since the brief recess.”

“I was not aware,” Blaen explains. “I have not heard a word from inside, do you think they are alright?”

“I suspect they are,” Dwalin says. “I will retrieve him. Stay at your post.” He pats his shoulder before ducking inside, unsure what he will find.

**-Present-**

A gentle knock on his door woke Fili. He rubbed his eyes, then the side of his face as he tried to remember why he was conscious.

The knock rang out again and he grumbled, moving to the side of his bed. He hissed as his feet his the night-chilled floor. Hurrying to his door, he pulled open the massive wooden door to find his brother standing in front of him.

“Ki?” he asked, frowning when his brother only nodded. Fear clenched his heart and he swallows around the lump choking him.

“Did something happen?” he asks.

Kili shakes his head, and then shrugs. Frowning at his brother, Fili opens the door wider.

“Come inside. I’m too cold to remain here,” he sighs. They both climb into the bed once Fili closes up his room again. Kili lies to face his brother, pulling a pillow tight to his chest. Fili remembers when they were little and he would do the same after their father had died. It was just as painful to see now, as it was then, maybe even more so.

“Ki,” Fili says, low and hushed, the room so quiet around them, the dying fire’s crackles only breaking in to remind them of the late hour.

“I told Bilbo about how the Council wanted Uncle to marry him,” Kili admits, his eyes avoiding meeting his brother’s own concerned gaze.

“What? Why?”

“He _asked,_ Fi! I thought Uncle had discussed it already and maybe Bilbo had refused, that he didn’t understand why it was important.”

Fili groans, burying his head into his hands. What a fool his brother could be!

“Ki, Uncle and Bilbo were never together like that. They shared a bed like we do now,” Fili reveals, looking up at his brother.

“Mahal,” Kili cries and shoves his face into the pillow. His body shakes once before looking up pleadingly at his brother.

“What have I done, Fi? Have I caused this pain for our uncle?” he demands. Tears well up in his eyes and Fili graps his brother’s arm.

“This has been Thorin’s doing, Kili. He’s drove Master Baggins from his chambers and they have not spoken since this morning’s announcement. I suspect that our Burglar has left to think on his next action.”

His brother nods, the sadness in his features not fully dissipated but eased.

“I hope that there will be time to remedy Uncle’s hasty actions,” Fili adds.

“And if there’s not?” Kili asks. His wide eyes so young, and Fili wishes he could promise that that fear would fade with the break of a new dawn.

Instead Fili draws his brother close, the thought of losing Bilbo and being forced to watch the downward spiral of grief it would cause Thorin…it was too real a fear that would only be strengthen by the light of a new day.

**-Past-**

As Thorin pulled himself from a comfortable dream, he wondered almost instantly what had caused him to wake. He blinked, aware that it wasn’t pain, he was still feeling the pleasant effects of Oin’s medicine, when he noticed Dwalin standing at the far end of his bed.

His friend’s focus seemed off, and Thorin traced it back to the left side of his bed. Yawning lightly, Thorin moved his head to get a better look when his left hand moved ever so slightly over softness. He nearly startled except for Dwalin motioning suddenly for him to hold still.

Looking down, Thorin carefully moved his hand up and almost choked on what he found there. Slumped over, arms pillowing his head, was Bilbo-sound asleep on Thorin’s bed.

Before Thorin could even narrow down the list of questions he had, Dwalin spoke up.

“He has been having headaches, and we suspect not sleeping.” Dwalin’s rumble causes Bilbo to stir. They both stop breathing but then Thorin drops his hand back, stroking the curls under his palm in hopefully a soothing manner. Dwalin opens his mouth to probably chastise Thorin for doing something that will undoubtedly wake Bilbo completely, when the Hobbit calms and drifts off again.

“Is he needed elsewhere?” Thorin asks, not realizing that his hand has set up a pattern of stroking Bilbo’s hair even when he looks back to Dwalin.

“Nothing that cannot be postponed or continued on without him. I will inform them that he is indisposed,” Dwalin says, and turns but pauses.

“Have you decided if you will cast him from Erebor permanently?” Dwalin asks, low like he’s asking a secret.

It would be a lie to say that Thorin has thought little of the matter. All his thoughts have been of Bilbo, of making those repairs to him for the hurtful things that Thorin had done in his time of gold sickness.

But from the way Bilbo had avoided him, Thorin had thought that the decision had been made for him. Now it looked as if Bilbo had been holding onto the same fears and doubts of their past that Thorin had been looking to overcome.

Thorin wondered if it would be possible to move forward now.

As he hopes the thought, they both hear noises at the front of the tent, and Thorin dismisses Dwalin to deal with it.

**-Present-**

Dwalin tapped gently on the door to the lavatory. He leaned his head against its smooth surface and felt his heart clench.

“Beloved, please, come out,” he begs.

The resounding sobs from inside make him clench his fists and resist beating them into the wood. A broken hand would not save his heart this ache.

**-Past-**

After his lunch, Thranduil finds himself speaking with one of the most stubborn dwarfs he has ever had the displeasure of having to converse with.

“I must speak with King Thorin at once,” Thranduil repeats. He narrows his eyes when the dwarf standing guard just shifts in his pose but does not move.

“He was the one that requested this audience,” Thranduil hisses. The days since the battle had been trying enough; he didn’t need stubborn dwarves to antagonize him further.

“The King is busy at the moment,” the dwarf says, “perhaps you can return at a more convenient time.”

“Pardon?” Thranduil arches an eyebrow. He opens his mouth to launch a scathing attack on what will happen to the dwarf if he doesn’t allow him to pass, when the tent flap is opened and Dwalin steps out.

“Thank you, Blaen.” Dwalin says, “you may return to the caravan preparations.”

The first dwarf narrows his eyes at Thranduil but turns and leaves without a further words.

“King Thranduil, His Majesty did not expect you til this afternoon,” Dwalin says.

“I am also trying to return to my home,” Thranduil says, staving off his anger as he reminds himself that from experience he knows there is no use arguing with the Captain of the King’s Guard. “If Thorin wishes to have my time, now is the only time I have to offer.”

Dwalin frowns and glances back at the tent. He seems to debate something for a moment and Thranduil grants him the time, before feeling pleased at the dwarf's hesitant nod.

“At your discretion,” Dwalin agrees and allows Thranduil inside.

**-Present-**

Reaching his room felt nothing like it had when Thorin knew what lie beyond the doors…always it had been Bilbo. Sometimes sitting up by the fire, dozing on a book as the hour grew late but he would not turn in without Thorin there. Other nights found Bilbo writing letters to the Shire, confirming that he is still alive and entrusting his home to his gardener for safekeeping. Weeks during the winter, Bilbo had wrote letters and read the responses while muttering about something called a ‘Lobelia’ as he paced in front of the fire.

Sometimes if it was truly late, Bilbo would be sitting up with a plate and a scowl. Thorin would apologize as much as he could before they turned in, but it always led to Bilbo’s frown being pressed against his chest and a tight arm across his abdomen. On those nights when it would get late enough Thorin would steady his breathing and close his eyes to listen to Bilbo near-silent huffs of anger until he would slip a hand under Thorin’s tunic, running his fingers along the scars from Azog’s blade; soothing himself that everything had worked out okay.

But now…Thorin slipped inside his room, cold as the fire was never started when Bilbo got back from dinner. Silence and darkness greeted him. Lighting one candle, Thorin made his way to the set of drawers on the far side of the room. Opening the first one, he tried to not feel wounded from its empty state. The rest were empty as well.

Sitting by a dead fireplace, Thorin wondered how many more nights he would be able to survive this stillness without going mad again. He could barely contemplate their…no his bed.

It felt foreign to get ready for sleep without Bilbo chatting about his day, or wandering about the room in search for whatever had been misplaced. No one pulled back the covers to his side, or slid close when he got under them. It had been so long since he had slept alone and he did not remember it being this lonely.

He is making the right decision.

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted on FF.net
> 
> Kudos/Comments/Suggestions go below!! Don't forget to tip your writer! ^_^


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